


Distraction (One-Shot)

by ghoulboy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxious Tony Stark, Avengers Feels, Avengers Tower, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Cutting, Depressed Tony Stark, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Iron Man 3, M/M, Marvel Universe, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Illness, PTSD, Panic, Panic Attack, Post Iron Man 3, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Protective Steve Rogers, Self Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Sacrificing Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Angst, Stony - Freeform, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Has Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark Needs Sleep, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, addict, cutting tony stark, mcu - Freeform, trigger warning, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 22:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18082337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulboy/pseuds/ghoulboy
Summary: In which, Steve Rogers finds out that Tony has a rather unhealthy coping mechanism and dangerous mindset.*Trigger warning: panic attacks, self-harm, mental health issues, angst*





	Distraction (One-Shot)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time ever posting on here. I've wrote fics in the past on Wattpad and fanfiction.net, but this is my first time ever writing a Marvel one, so sorry if it's disappointing. This does come with a trigger warning, so if you're sensitive to self harm and things of that nature, click away. Enjoy!

If anyone were to ever ask, Tony Stark was okay. Even more than okay, actually. He was great - he was better-than-ever - and he was always equipped with a cocky smile that he would never let falter. At least, not in front of other people, anyway. He knew that he couldn’t let people find out just how much of a wreck he actually was. He was a _Stark_ , for God’s sake. He came from a line of men that were to never show weakness, whether that be physically, mentally, and especially emotionally.

Tony hadn’t been the same since he was recruited to be apart of S.H.I.E.L.D’s new initiative, the Avengers. The idea of having a league of superheroes that would serve to protect was created by Nick Fury and although Tony wasn’t necessarily a team player, he joined. Sounds like a fine idea, right? Well, after having to deal with a psychopathic god from another world trying to take over New York with a swarm of aliens, it wasn’t all fun and games. Not to mention being sucked into a giant wormhole and almost dying from that experience really put a damper on everything.

But that was months ago and Tony was onto more things, such as stopping a terrorist called the Mandarin. He had successfully done that, but that really took a toll on his relationship with Pepper Potts. She didn’t feel safe anymore, especially while being around him when he acted chaotically and put not only himself, but her, in danger. She left and was staying with a family member for the time being.

When Pepper had left, he had felt so lonely. He constantly worked in his shop on his suit, or his gadgets, or anything else that he could get his hands on. The distraction, he felt, was necessary. Sure, he forgot to eat sometimes and he would usually go days without sleep (or until he would pass out from exhaustion), but he wanted to keep working - he _needed_ to keep working. It all kept the thoughts at bay.

He would never admit it to anyone, but his loneliness was the main reason for inviting the Avengers to stay with him at his tower (all of them except for Thor, who returned to Asgard after the “New York incident”). He had made up a lie that Fury thought it would be nice if the team could do a little “bonding” or whatever, and that by having the team all in one place, it would make it easier for all of them to be contacted for upcoming missions, and a bunch of other bullshit excuses that came to his mind. They had all bought it. After all, he was convincing (and rather persuasive).

It was nice, actually. Steve and Tony were on better terms than when they had first met, even though Tony’s snarky comments often got on Steve’s nerves and Steve’s constant goody-goody attitude made Tony groan. Bruce and Tony often worked on experiments in the lab together, which was nice, considering Tony rarely came across anyone with his similar intellect. Tony had also worked on creating a training center for Clint and Natasha in the compound, which had also been a nice distraction for him. In fact, everyone’s presence in general seemed to be a well-enough distraction for him. He no longer spent days on end building, he now had people (other than JARVIS) to remind him to eat, and all-in-all things seemed to be looking up. He still experienced nightmares, along with the occasional panic attack and depressing thoughts, but things were - for once - okay.

Then there was that one particular evening when things seemed to plummet again. It was around supper time when Tony, like usual, was in the lab. He was working on some new electrical arrows for Clint, while humming along to the Black Sabbath song that was playing over the speakers in the lab.

Suddenly, as he was adjusting a couple wires that connected intricately into the shaft of one of the arrows, his hand slipped and the wire sent a shock throughout his hand, leaving a tingling sensation lingering.

“Son of a bitch,” muttered Tony, setting down his tools on the table and inspecting his palm.

A small drop of blood began growing on the tip of his thumb and he rolled his eyes. He brought the finger up to his lips and swiftly sucked on the tiny wound. The blood flow halted and he wiped his thumb off on his ripped jeans.

Turning back to the arrows, Tony noticed that one of the wires was faulty, resulting in a few sparks spurting out of the shaft. It would’ve been no big deal since it was an easy fix, but something about it made him stop in his tracks.

_He was in a wooded area, encased in the Iron Man suit. He was facing the god of thunder himself, after tracking him down to retrieve Loki and take him into S.H.I.E.L.D’s custody. A bolt of lightning coming from the Norse god hits him, sparks crackling out of his suit and for a moment, he’s afraid that his suit would completely give out._

“JARVIS, cut the music please!” he called out and instantly, the room was filled by silence.

Tony feverishly rubbed at his eyes, stepping away from the metal table where the arrows and tools were strewn out. He caught his breath, deeply inhaling and slowly exhaling back out. He was fine. He was okay. He was grounded.

Steadily, he reached for the arrows again, trying to keep himself busy and his mind blank. Carefully, he replaced the defective wire with a more functioning one, sealing the shaft and placing it away from the ones that still needed to be modified.

He was okay. He was fine. He was grounded.

Tony glanced at the time flashed across the watch around his wrist. He should probably get going and actually eat something for once, but with the close call he had just had to flipping his lid, it was probably not the best time to leave his work.

Just as he was about to continue on with Clint’s weapons, he caught a glimpse of one of the Iron Man suits from the reflection of his expensive watch. He gradually lifted his head and looked up at the suit staring back at him from across the room, concealed away behind a glass case. It was side-by-side with a row of other prototypes that he had been working on.

He admired his work for a moment before -

_“Big man in a suit of armor,” the captain had leered. “Take that off and what are you?”_

Tony grinded his teeth, jerking his head down to the floor and away from his creations. That had been cold, really cold. Of course he had played it off with a snarky answer, trying to mask how much that had stung, but it still lingered at the back of his mind and whispered in his ear whenever the thoughts came creeping back.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “What am I?”

Tony could feel his heart rate increasing as his mind began to spin. He gripped two fistfuls of his hair, tugging on it and trying to regain his composure. His breathing became ragged and he sunk his nails into his scalp, but barely felt anything.

He was okay. He was fine. He was ground-

“Sir,” JARVIS’s voice rang out from around him, “is everything al-”

“Mute,” Tony snapped, but it came out almost inaudibly.

  _Just a man in a suit of armor._

Thor could have killed him with a blast of lightning like that, or at least have done some serious damage. The only reason why he wasn’t dead was because of that suit. The only reason why he could put up such a fight was because of that suit. He could never be like Natasha or Clint: completely trained perfectly in combat. Sure, Steve had his shield, but he was a damn good fighter, even though everything special about him had come out of a bottle.

Tony was so lucky to be alive and it was all thanks to the red and gold, titanium alloy that he braced himself in for battle. He would be _dead_ without that. He wouldn’t have escaped the wormhole…

_His breath is escaping him. He’s slowly drifting out of consciousness because the suit is unable to withstand the lack of oxygen. The black void is slowly closing in around him and all he can see is the stars in the galaxy surrounding him. He’s falling. He can’t stop falling -_

“I’m nothing!” he shouted and in one swift motion, he swiped everything off of the long metal slab in front of him.

The tools clattered loudly to the tiled floor beneath him and crumpled blueprints followed by fluttering to the ground and blanketing them. Tony felt a stinging sensation on his right arm and he glanced down to notice that he had a gash running from the side of his wrist to the outside of his arm. He must’ve cut it on one of the tools, he figured. It wasn’t deep and it was a couple inches long, but the feeling was oddly… calming.

He froze for a moment, all of his senses focusing onto this crooked line of blood that was now seeping out of a sharp cut. He wasn’t sure which of the tools had given him the wound, but he was somewhat grateful for it.

Maybe this could be another distraction for him.

Tony felt his fingers reaching into the back pocket of his tattered jeans, pulling out a pocket knife that he always kept with him (though he wasn’t sure why; old habit, maybe?) and dropping onto the floor beneath him. He pressed his back up against the leg to the table, facing away from the door to the lab.

He could feel his heart begin to race again with his vision becoming hazy and without realizing it, he flicked open the blade and made a horizontal cut below the first one. He sucked in a deep breath, slinging his head back with his eyes aimed at the ceiling. He felt a little better. He stayed like that momentarily, closing his eyes shut and just feeling the blood drip down his arm. Why was this so morbidly relaxing to him? Maybe he should make another.

"Sir - “ JARVIS began, right as Tony dragged the blade over his wrist.

“I said _mute_ ,” hissed Tony in response, shooting a glare up at one of the speakers on the ceiling.

His gaze flickered back to his arm, watching the red liquid bubble up from the wound and pour over onto his tanned skin. The cuts weren’t too deep, or at least not deep enough to the point where they needed stitches. He wasn’t an idiot. He may have an addictive personality, but he wasn’t trying to hospitalize himself or anything else. He just wanted something to focus on. Something to -

He heard the door to the lab swinging open from behind him. “Tony?”

_Shit - why didn’t JARVIS warn me that -_

He mentally facepalmed and realized that JARVIS was likely about to tell him that someone was approaching the lab door or requesting to enter, as he often did. He probably should’ve locked it this time.

Tony frantically looked around, switching the knife closed and sliding it under the table as quietly and inconspicuously as he could manage. He noticed an oil-stained towel that had been on the table sprawled out onto the floor in his near vicinity. Quickly, he picked it up and - as casually as possible - he draped it over his bleeding arm, hoping that it looked like he had just cleaned up some spilled oil or adhesive and not like _he had just been cutting himself or anything._

Tony jumped to his feet and spun around, swiping a clammy hand through his hair and hoping that his face wasn’t ridden with guilt.

Steve Rogers stood in the doorway, a loose t-shirt and jeans framing his body. His eyebrows were furrowed and a questioning gaze was aimed at him through his blue eyes, wondering why the mechanic had been perched up against the table from the floor.  
  
“Hey, Cap,” spoke Tony, his voice sounding natural ( _thank God)._

“Uh, hey,” Steve replied, clearing his throat and scanning the scene around him. “What have you been - “  
  
“Do you need anything?” Tony interrupted, hoping that if he sounded busy enough the soldier might leave.

“Yeah, actually,” the blonde answered, his confused expression fading away as he went along with the question. “We were wondering whose turn it was to cook tonight, since Bruce did yesterday. Clint kind of wants to order Chinese though. What do you th-”

“I don’t care,” Tony blurted out, hands twiddling. “Either way is fine with me.”

Steve looked Tony up and down suspiciously and Tony tried not to crumble under his assertive gaze. Finally, he asked, “You okay, Stark?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” the mechanic stated breezily. Before Steve had the chance to counter, he said, “Actually, I’m pretty busy though, so maybe you should - “

“What happened with all your tools?” questioned Steve, stepping forward with his blue eyes fixed on all of the equipment scattered across the floor.

Tony silently cursed himself out for being too entertained by the idea of slicing open his own skin instead of picking everything up after his little “episode” or whatever that had been. Maybe if he wasn’t so caught up in his own fucked up head, this wouldn’t have happened, he figured.

“Nothing, just a mishap,” Tony brushed it off. “I still need to work on Clint’s arrows though, so - “  
  
Steve knelt down and helpfully began picking up the tools that Tony had flung off the table. In any other situation, that would’ve been appreciated, but not in this moment when Tony wanted anything but for Steve to stay longer in the lab than he already was.

“Steve, you don’t need to - “ he began.

The captain paused for a moment, just as he was about to place a saw blade back onto the table. He set the tool to the side and, inspecting the ground, he placed a single finger onto the tile beneath him. He dabbed his finger onto the surface of the floor and then brought his hand up to his face, concentrating on the sight.

Then he rose to his feet and skeptically looked over at Tony, who was trying with every fiber in his body to remain as calm and collected as possible.

“Why is there blood on your floor?” asked Steve, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. He held up his hand to show that his index finger was stained with Tony’s blood.

Tony gulped, yet kept his composure. “Oh, right. I had a little accident earlier. Nothing too major, I just nicked myself while fixing up one of my suits. No biggie.”

The muscles in the captain’s face relaxed, but a shade of concern painted over his pale skin. “Tony, are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting a little strange.”

“I’m fine, Cap,” he sighed, rolling his eyes impatiently. “I don’t need to be interrogated. Just let me get back to work please.”

“Look, I know your work is important to you,” Steve began understandingly, “but you need to take it easy. You’re always down here by yourself and you only come out when one of us practically forces you to. That can’t be healthy.”

“This is what I _do_ , Steve,” insisted Tony. “I work, I build, I tinker, I fix things. It’s just like Banner with his science experiments and Barton with constant target practice. It’s just a hobby - wait no, it’s my _life._ ”

Steve’s eyebrows creased together, but he remained quiet, not wanting to argue anymore with the irritatingly stubborn man. Instead of walking out though, he dropped back down to his knees and gingerly began plucking Tony’s tools off of the floor and setting them gently back down on the table.

Tony wanted to thank him (or maybe even just ask him to leave again), but honestly, he didn’t have the energy. He followed along and crouched down in front of the other, gathering up his supplies.

Less than a moment later, Steve stopped and suddenly grabbed at his arm.

“What the hell are you - “  
  
Tony was cut off by looking down at where Steve was holding him, realizing that as he had began picking things up, the towel he had been clutching started riding up on his wrist. His freshly cut wrist was now entirely exposed, blood noticeably staining the towel. Everything seemed to move in slow motion and before he could make up any excuses or recoil, the towel was stripped off of him completely.

Tony froze, feeling his entire body shutting down on him. He had never felt more naked in his life, as he watched in horror as the soldier’s face contorted up into a mix of puzzlement and dismay. It felt like an eternity had passed with nothing other than Steve staring down at his bleeding arm and Tony, for once, trying to conjure up the right words to say.

Steve’s eyes slowly lifted up and latched onto Tony’s.

Tony cleared his throat, pulling his arm out of his grasp. “Y-You know - uh - Clint was right. Chinese sounds pretty good for dinner. Why don’t we go - “

“Tony,” Captain’s voice was eerily calm. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he lied. “Like I said, it was a little accident and - “

“Did you… Did you do this to yourself?” Steve’s facial expression softened and the look in his eyes made Tony’s heart jolt.

_Why did he care so much?_

“Steve, don’t be ridiculous,” he pressed stubbornly, completely unwilling to admit to it.

“Tony, there’s no way someone gets accidental cuts in this manner by messing around with some tools,” Steve reprimanded, frustrated. “Especially when they’re horizontal like this _and_ on the wrist. Just tell me the truth.”

Tony’s shoulders slumped over in defeat, staring down at the ground solemnly. There was no excuse that would be able to convince him that he didn’t do this to himself. Why did he have to be such a fucking nutcase? This all would’ve been easily avoided if he wasn’t crazy.

“It - It - I didn’t…” his voice trailed off and he harshly bit into his lower lip. “I didn’t mean to do it, but it… it helped take my mind off of things.”

“I don’t understand.” The other man sounded defeated, no longer frustrated with his lying. He knit his perplexed eyebrows together and ran a hand through his hair, looking deep in thought.

“Well, I’m sure there weren’t many people doing it when you were growing up,” Tony tried to joke, but his voice fell flat.

“No, I mean - “ he inhaled deeply, still lost in thought. “ - I know what self-harm is, I just… don’t understand why you, of all people, would do it.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the mechanic asked almost defensively, raising an eyebrow.

“I just… I don’t know,” he admitted. “I would’ve never expected this. You’re just so strong. I didn’t know you were hurting so much to the point where you would…”

“Strong, huh?” Tony chuckled humorlessly. “Thanks, Cap, but I beg to differ.”

“Why would you ever want to hurt yourself, Tony?” he asked, exasperated.

“I'm just…” Tony couldn't stop his hands from shaking, though he tried to settle them at least by fidgeting with the hem of his greasy tank top. “I'm so tired of never being in control. One minute, I'm fine and then the next, I'm hyperventilating and having JARVIS help me count my breathing.”

“So you have panic attacks?” he clarified.

Tony could feel his face shading red with embarrassment. Was he _actually_ telling Captain America that he was suffering with an undiagnosed anxiety disorder, possibly even PTSD? God, that was a new low for him. Imagine if his father was still alive and he knew that his son was telling his greatest accomplishment, the super-soldier, about his anxiety attacks. His mother would probably be sympathetic, but Howard Stark would be so humiliated; no son of his was going to be a basket case.

“Hey,” Steve spoke gently, taking Tony's hesitance as an affirmation. He slowly reached out and placed his hand on Tony’s knee, even though the billionaire half-flinched at the touch, but Steve calmly kept his palm resting there.

“It’s alright, Tony,” he assured him. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. You can't help it.”

“You think I don't know that?” Tony chuckled darkly, staring down at the floor with the captain’s hand on his leg in his peripheral vision. “I'm a _Stark_. I could probably afford a million shrinks that could tell me that, but that doesn't make it any less pathetic for me.”

“You think you’re pathetic for dealing with this?” Steve scoffed. “Tony, that’s not it at allt. It's _normal_ for people like us - or for people that go through crap that we go through - to have mental health issues. Why else do you think S.H.I.E.L.D has so many psychiatrists? Hell, even Clint sees one and I'm sure Bruce does too.”

“Yeah, but - “

“But what?” challenged Steve.

Tony bit his lip, digging his nails into his palm nervously. “Wh-Why me?”

He could see Steve’s face shifting into a crestfallen state and he wondered what it took for his expression to break. Was it the way Tony’s leg trembled under his palm, or the way his words were barely a whisper as they escaped his lips? Or maybe it was the fact that his friend’s voice had cracked during the sentence, the loss of hope and self-hatred seeping out through the tear. But all of it made Steve’s heart ache.

He shook his head slowly, unsure of what to say. “I don’t know, Tony, I really don’t. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” Tony laughed bitterly, fighting back the urge to cry. “Me too.”

_Stark men don’t cry._

Steve’s hand trailed further up, until it was resting on top of Tony’s quivering hand. He gingerly took hold of it, steadily turning his arm over until the cuts on the inside of his arm reappeared. They were still bleeding, but not nearly as much as before. The sight still made his stomach drop, but he remained strong. It was what Tony needed right now.

“Come on,” Steve mumbled, letting go of him and standing upright. He held out a hand to Tony, who hesitantly took it and allowed Steve to pull him to his feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”  
  
Tony nodded his head reluctantly, but remained silent. He held onto the bloody towel again as if it were a security blanket.

The soldier led them to the bathroom that was connected to the back corner of the lab. He switched on the light and Tony flipped the lid to the toilet closed, taking a seat on top of it.

As Steve fished out the medical kit from the cabinet under the sink, Tony’s thoughts grew darker. Why had he been so stupid? He could’ve easily gotten Steve out of the lab before he witnessed his arm being a bloody mess. He was so careless, so dense. He could’ve kept this a secret, along with how bad his mental and emotional state were, but _no_ \- he _had_ to fuck it up just like he fucked everything else up in his life. That’s why Pepper left, that’s why Fury and Natasha were hesitant to let him be apart of the Avengers, that’s why Steve thought of him as nothing other than an arrogant prick in a tin can.

His thoughts abruptly stopped when Steve tugged his arm up and began cleaning his wounds. He could feel his face redden with shame and embarrassment, but Steve pretended not to notice.

Steve worked in silence, trying to be as gentle yet as thorough as possible. After all, an infection would definitely make things ten times worse for Tony. Things already seemed bad enough for him, so Steve didn’t want to add onto that list.

“Steve?” Tony asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

“Mmm?” Steve hummed, sliding a bandage onto the last cut.

“Are you… are you going to tell everyone else about… you know?” The man sounded distraught, his voice small.

Steve paused, but retracted his hands away from Tony after his arm was completely bandaged up. He combed a hand through his hair, eyebrows knitting together as he mulled over the question.

“I don’t think it’s my place to tell anyone about this,” he finally decided, “ _but_ I would encourage you to speak to the others. I won’t force you to, but I don’t think you should hide any of this anymore, Tony. It’s not good for you. We’re all here to support you and be a crutch if you need one. You don’t have to tell them to the fullest extent of what you… did to yourself today, but we’re a _team_ now. We need to be there for each other, no matter what.”

Tony nodded along as he spoke, listening quietly and staring down at him from where he was knelt in front of him.

“You don’t have to suffer in silence anymore, Tony,” continued Steve, his tone strong and vibrant with passion. “We’re all here for you - _I’m_ here for you.”

That was it. That was the straw that broke the dam and Tony’s dark eyes began spilling over with tears. Steve quickly reacted by pulling him into an embrace, cautiously trying to avoid putting any pressure on his injured arm.

Tony immediately wrapped his arms around the captain’s midsection, burying his head into the crook of his neck. He breathed in Steve’s scent and found it oddly comforting. This is what he had needed for so long, without even realizing it. He just needed someone, _anyone_ , and Steve seemed to be perfect for that.

Tears ran down his face until the t-shirt Steve was wearing was now gradually becoming damp with Tony’s tears, but he didn’t seem to mind. He even felt like crying himself, but he needed to be strong for Tony.

The two stayed like that for what felt like forever, but neither of them cared.

“Tony, I’ll always be here for you,” Steve whispered into his ear. “Remember that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)  
> (sorry if this sucked)


End file.
